Purity Problems — Saturday Sermons from the Sidelines

Mark 7:1-23; 14 Pentecost B 2021

Jesus hits a home run with his feeding miracle, and how do the opponents respond? They launch into a critique of the handwashing etiquette of the disciples. His opponents immediately call his authority into question by pointing to the “bad manners” of his followers.

“Purity in matters of food was as important as anything in postexilic Israelite practice,” Malina and Rohrbaugh write, “though what is under discussion here is the Pharisaic expression of Israelite custom rather than the Law of Moses. Here Jesus rejects the former in favor of the latter” (page 221).

The primary practices Jesus advocates in this text do not focus on external purity. Instead, the first practice is to honor the full intent of God’s commandments rather than blurring that intent through the vagaries of case law. Exceptions and equivocations can multiply to the point that the heart of the commandment no longer matters. When self-interest drives that process, there is no limit to the possible abuses than can ensue.

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The second practice is to focus on relational holiness rather than physical purity. Jesus focuses on the filial relationship to parents. He then expands that to an examination of the human heart, the source of “evil intentions.” Many of these evil intentions result in the breaking of community, the exclusion of the stranger, and the exploitation of the vulnerable. Defilement has more to do with maintaining community integrity than it does with maintaining bodily purity.

Purity rules are always about people in the end. The story we tell may be about land or food or clothing. But those material things always represent the difference we construct between people: the insiders and the outsiders, the honorable and the dishonorable, the natives and the foreigners, the good and the bad. We humans love hierarchies, and we will fixate on almost any feature of existence in order to establish a pecking order with us at the top and someone else at the bottom.

I lived in Denver, Colorado, for a few years in the early 1980’s. That was the time of the “Native” bumper stickers. Colorado was a popular place for pilgrims seeking their version of John Denver’s “Rocky Mountain High.” They (we, for a while) came from all over the country and all over the world to enjoy the skiing and the columbine, the low humidity and high meadows. It was difficult to find someone who was actually born in Colorado and still lived there.

The few folks who made up the aristocracy of birth began a movement expressed on green bumper stickers decorated with a background of mountain peaks and displaying the title “NATIVE.” This designation placed them above the rest of us mere mortals who had the misfortune to be born somewhere else and to feel the need emigrate to God’s country.

There were several edges to this label. “Natives” were, according to some, inherently better than the interlopers and better-suited to their home state. The non-natives were invaders who brought with them all sorts of foreign ideas, customs, and priorities. They (we) were dilettantes who came for the skiing and left when the snow turned to mud. The natives were the only ones really deserving of the best real estate and were deeply resentful of all the outside money that drove up the prices and reduced the inventory.

Non-natives were, somehow, “impure.” Only later did most of us find out that the original idea for the “NATIVE” campaign originated with a transplant named Eric Glade. After a few years the campaign petered out, but the message stuck with me.

It takes very little for us humans to whip up a caste system, out of whole cloth if we need to do so. “The hierarchy of caste is not about feelings or morality,” Isabel Wilkerson observes. “It is about power—which groups have it, and which do not. It is about resources—which caste is seen as worthy of them and which are not, who gets to acquire and control them and who does not. It is,” she concludes, “about respect, authority, and assumptions of competence—who is accorded these and who is not.”

It is one thing to have a system that maps out the relationships in life in such a way as to provide a framework of meaning and purpose. But human beings, over time, find it nearly impossible, I think, to resist the temptation to use that system to establish a caste system which affords advantages to the in-group that sponsors the system.

It was one thing to point out that there were still a few “Native” Coloradans hanging around in the sea of newcomers. That was just a fact. And those “natives” could indeed offer some insights into life along and among the great Rocky Mountains. If the “Native” label were regarded as a gift, an asset, something to be offered up for the good of all, it might have been a salutary thing. But it was claimed as a resentful privilege and a mark of preferred purity.

It wasn’t long before a few people noted the astonishing and immoral presumption in the label as well. The real “natives” of the land weren’t white people who happened to have been born within the boundaries of Colorado. The real natives were the people whose people had been on that land long before Colorado was even a consideration. The real natives were the people whose people had been on that land when the ancestors of the pretenders were still expelling the Romans from northern Europe.

Every human hierarchy is constructed on a false foundation. Jesus understands this, names it, and challenges the presumptions of the purity system in Israel at the time. It’s not the covenant itself that he challenges. It is the way the purity system is now used to underwrite systems and structures of power, to serve self-interest rather than God, and to sustain the divisions constructed to uphold the system in the first place.

Purity rules are always about people in the end. No, that’s not quite right. Purity rules are always about power in the end. In Jesus’ earthly ministry, the purity system was based on rules that had meant something quite different in Bronze Age Israel and in Iron Age Judea. Now that system was being used to police the poor, to control women, and to prop up the priestly aristocracy in Jerusalem. Regardless of their intentions, the Pharisees participated in that caste system, and Jesus challenged that participation.

Jesus emphasizes how God approaches us – through our hearts. He argues that purity rules, at least in the “Traditions of the Elders,” had become the tail wagging the dog of right relationships. These rules had become a tool of the religious/political/economic elite to control the people.

In what ways do we church “insiders” use “traditions of the elders” to control access to our Christian congregations? We may say that “all are welcome here” but are “all” really welcome here? In most congregations, the honest answer is “no.” We exclude people through a variety of conscious and unconscious norms designed for the comfort of the insiders and the repulsion of those who might want to get in.

I don’t think it’s trivial that Jesus takes on the hand-washing practice and expands it into a major theological and ethical issue. If, in fact, the practice originates with the Roman colonizers and is a way into assimilation with the imperial power and status structure, then this is a big deal. Jesus takes his audience and his disciples out of that system and back to their core identity as the people of God formed by Scripture and not by human traditions.

God’s people cannot live inside a domination system, cannot accommodate to imperial powers, without experiencing a defaced and deformed imagination. This is the song that binds together the witness of the Hebrew and Christian scriptures. The Hebrews resist Egyptian imperial power and are released in the Exodus. Israel and Judah embrace forms of empire and are destroyed by empires. Jesus proclaims an alternate reign, God’s kin(g)dom and is executed by agents of the Roman system.

Our own “imperial” system that deforms the Christian imagination has now been outed for what it is – White Christian Nationalism. The evidence of a deformed and defaced imagination is almost too much to catalogue. There is the conjunction of “Christian” and Confederate flags. There is the excruciating whiteness of large parts of the Church on this continent. There is the complicit racism of those of us who wish we could get it “right” without paying a price.

Perhaps the good news here is in the accurate diagnosis Jesus offers. There are no crimes such as “driving while Black,” or “shopping while Black,” or “walking in the park and bird-watching while Black.” Those are made-up things – the Traditions of our Elders that we need to abandon. Knowing this can help us to repent and make repairs, the first steps toward real growth.

Next week, we get some insight into just how difficult and necessary this conversation is for people who follow Jesus. Stay tuned.

Text Study for Mark 7:1-23 (Pt. 6); 14 Pentecost B 2021

Sacred Places, Sacred People

The Fall 2021 edition of the ACLU Magazine shares an article by Anita Little entitled “Buried Truths.” Little begins by telling the story of Darrell “Soul” Semien, a black man who served fifteen years as a law enforcement officer in Oberlin, Louisiana. At age 55, Semien died from cancer. His widow and family wanted him to be buried in the nearby Oaklin Springs Cemetery. When they inquired to make arrangements, they were in for a shock.

A representative of the cemetery told them that a clause in the burial contract specified that use of the cemetery was restricted to “the right of burial of the remains of white human beings.” The ACLU became involved in the matter and sent a letter to the cemetery board, demanding removal of that contract clause and a revision of the cemetery by-laws, which had been in place for all of the more than seventy years of the cemetery’s existence.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

The board acted quickly to remove all race-based restrictions from its contracts, to destroy all previous copies that included the “whites only” covenant and to remove the employee from working with families in such matters. The board president offered the family one of his own plots in the cemetery as part of the reparations. Understandably, the family refused and went elsewhere.

It would be one thing to hear this story as an artifact of some previous generation. This series of events, however, took place in 2021. ACLU officials believe that such hidden covenants and other restrictions still lie buried in documents across the South and across the country. Alanah Odoms, director of the ACLU of Louisiana said, “We suspect this is the tip of the iceberg.”

Supreme Court decisions have rendered race-based covenants unconstitutional over the last seventy years. But that does not mean they are irrelevant. “That this language exists in so many places, even if it’s not enforced,” Little writes, “also acts as a signal, a reminder that this country and its promises were meant for only a select few. Removing these covenants from documents,” she observes, “would be simple, and the lack of organized effort to do so communicates the racism that vigorously thrives beneath the veneer of changed laws.”

Little reviews the history and impact of restrictive covenants on the racial wealth gap in this country. She quotes a 2019 Federal Reserve Board survey that shows median household income for Whites at $188,200, for Latinx families at $36,100, and for Black families at $24,100. This disparity is the result of decades of intentional policies – especially the downstream results of redlining. In Minneapolis, for example, White families are three times as likely to own their homes as Black families.

The actions of the Oaklin Springs cemetery board were not the end of the matter either. Little reports that a white person who has a plot in the cemetery “threated to file a legal complaint stating that with its actions, the ACLU was violating his right to be interred in a whites-only cemetery as per the burial contract he signed.” Of course, the plaintiff claims to be “not-racist.” Instead, he argues “that he has ‘preferences’ that include being ‘laid to rest in a white cemetery.’”

“And again, calling the crowd to himself, [Jesus] said to them, ‘Listen up and get this straight! There is nothing outside of a person which entering into that person is able to defile that person; rather what defiles a person is that which comes out of that person” (Mark 7:14-15, my translation).

The racism of White supremacy uses the external marker of skin tone to identify a group of people as “impure.” That deep, visceral belief in the mythology of Black impurity teaches, justifies, and mandates the desire to have separate cemeteries. This belief is handed from generation to generation and makes White people insane when it comes to something like sharing public swimming pools. Better to close the pools, the mythology says, than to risk being “contaminated.”

The racism of White supremacy is handed on, taught, deepened, expanded, and enforced from generation to generation. It is, in the most literal of terms, a “Tradition of the Elders” which is passed on to our children and grandchildren. It is not in Hebrew or Christian scriptures, no matter what some exegetes might manufacture as evidence. We know when the mythology was invented and why. We can trace its transmission history. We can demonstrate that it is not written into the fabric of biology, sociology, history, or politics.

According to Jesus’ declaration to the crowds, we can render a judgment on who would “defile” the “holy ground” of the Oaklin Springs cemetery by being laid to rest there. It would certainly not be the remains of Darrell Semien. Mr. Semien’s remains would honor that space in light of his of public service.

The remains of the plaintiff coming after the ACLU would be another story. What defiles is what comes out of us – the products of our hearts. The overt racism, the threats of legal violence, the self-deception, the casual deceit, the avarice, and hatred spill out of the report Little offers to us in the plaintiff’s own words. When he is buried in that cemetery, he will certainly defile that holy ground.

I hope this report illustrates just how careful we must be with this “purity” text in our preaching. I think we must take into account and discuss our position of power lest we get into any sort of cultural, political, ethical, or physical redlining.

It’s one thing to be a subject people who are just barely holding on to their identity in the face of a massive, assimilationist empire. To put it in the best light, the Pharisees are trying to keep Israel in one piece and relatively faithful under the domination of just such an imperial system. They may have gotten it backwards, as Jesus points out. They may have used the system to their own advantage (clearly, they did). But they occupy a position as subjects under subjugation.

We dare not put ourselves into the same social position unless we really are in such a position. But White, mainline Christians are not in that position. We are representatives of the exploitive, extractive, imperial system called White Male Supremacy. Unless we come to terms with that difference, our reading of this text will make us dangerous to any and all who are subjugated under that system.

“Purity” in the hands of the oppressor is a highly useful tool to sustain the oppression. That’s one of the downstream effects of the racialized purity system in this country. That’s why it’s worth remembering those restrictive covenants which led to the redlining that produces the current disparities in household wealth, educational opportunities, employment, health outcomes, and home ownership. When we draw lines, we create outsiders who can be exploited.

We rely on external features to determine how the lines are drawn. But, Jesus says, you can’t do that! Those external features don’t defile. Instead, our policies and practices that keep people oppressed based on external features – those things do defile. They come from our avaricious, deceitful, hate-filled, fear-soaked hearts. The system of White Male Supremacy, therefore, defiles everything and everyone it touches.

You might think I’m taking the text too far in this regard, but I don’t think so. “And when they went into the house away from the crowd, his disciples asked him about the parable” (Mark 7:17, my translation and emphasis). Jesus’ declaration is a parable, so it’s meant to be interpreted, applied, and expanded. After all, the audience for Mark’s gospel were mostly Gentile Christians. They, too, needed to figure out what this meant for them.

Perhaps the good news here is in the accurate diagnosis Jesus offers. There are no crimes such as “driving while Black,” or “shopping while Black,” or “walking in the park and bird-watching while Black.” Those are made-up things – the traditions of our Elders that we need to abandon. Knowing this can help us to repent and make repairs, the first steps toward real growth.

“We cannot repair the harms that we have not fully diagnosed,” Little quotes Rakim Brooks, senior campaign strategist at the ACLU as saying. “Our history has shown us that it’s not enough to take racist policies off the books,” Brooks asserts, “if we are going to achieve true justice. We need,” he concludes, “systemic solutions.”

Little suggests that we also need the imagination to begin to see what that repentance and repair can look like. Jesus offers a different vision of purity and defilement, one rooted in the human heart. That’s where our imagination is rooted. We can stop looking at the outsides of people and embrace our common humanity as fellow bearers of the Divine Image. And as Little concludes, our imagination needs to encompass the same quality of life for all people, with all sorts of “outsides.”

As I noted in the previous post, the preacher needs to keep this conversation in the context of the upcoming reading. It’s almost as if the writer of Mark’s gospel wants to remind Jesus that talk is cheap. He will immediately have the opportunity to put his principle into action as he encounters the Syro-Phoenician woman in Mark 7:24-30. I mention that because it’s probably important not to over-promise yet on Jesus’ commitment to inclusion.

We’ve got some work to do next week.

References and Resources

“Cutting Off the Ends of the Ham.” https://www.executiveforum.com/cutting-off-the-ends-of-the-ham/.

Dewey, Joanna. The Oral Ethos of the Early Church: Speaking, Writing, and the Gospel of Mark. Cascade Books, an Imprint of Wipf and Stock Publishers. Kindle Edition.

FURSTENBERG, Y. A. I. R. (2008). Defilement Penetrating the Body: A New Understanding of Contamination in Mark 7.15. New Testament Studies, 54(02). https://doi.org/10.1017/S0028688508000106.

Jennings, Willie James. The Christian Imagination: Theology and the Origins of Race. New Haven, CT.: Yale University Press, 2010.

Kenny, Andrew. “Surprise, Colorado: The guy who sold all those ‘NATIVE’ stickers is a transplant.” https://denverite.com/2018/05/25/surprise-colorado-natives-inventor-beloved-bumper-sticker-utah/.

Little, Anita. “Buried Truths.” ACLU Magazine (Fall, 2021), pages 16-21.

Malbon, E. (1989). The Jewish Leaders in the Gospel of Mark: A Literary Study of Marcan Characterization. Journal of Biblical Literature,108(2), 259-281. doi:10.2307/3267297.

Malina, Bruce. The New Testament World: Insights from Cultural Anthropology 3rd Edition. Westminster John Knox Press, 2001.

Malina, Bruce; Rohrbaugh. Richard. Social Science Commentary on the Synoptic Gospels. Kindle Edition.

McGhee, Heather. The Sum of Us. Random House Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

Oswald, Roy M., and Friedrich, Robert E. Jr. Discerning Your Congregation’s Future: A Strategic and Spiritual Approach. New York: Alban Institute, 1996.

Skinner, Matt. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-22-2/commentary-on-mark-71-8-14-15-21-23-5.

Tisby, Jemar. How to Fight Racism. Zondervan. Kindle Edition.

Webb, Elizabeth. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-22-2/commentary-on-mark-71-8-14-15-21-23-4.

Wilkerson, Isabel. Caste. Random House Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

Text Study for Mark 7:1-23 (Pt. 5); 14 Pentecost B 2021

Wash Your Hands (Or Not)!

Relatively innocent practices can morph so easily into rules and then symbols. I invited congregation members to teach their non-communing children to cross their arms over their hearts as they came to the Eucharistic table. The purpose was purely practical – a way for the communion servers to know who was coming for the meal and who was coming for a blessing. No big deal, I thought.

I thought wrong.

Soon I noticed anxious parents fussing with their children’s arms on the way to the altar. In some cases, the fussing was a bit more aggressive than I would have preferred. Before long, some were asking me about which way was the “right” way.” Should the children place their right arm over their left arm or vice versa. Of course, it didn’t matter, but that response was not satisfactory.

Photo by Ron Lach on Pexels.com

After that, children who mastered the practice came forward with what appeared to be self-satisfied smiles on their faces. They had the pleasure of knowing that they were doing it “right.” Before long, those smiles turned into frowns directed toward others who were doing it “wrong” or not at all. The practice had transformed into a rule.

I knew we had gone off the tracks completely when a child asked, with all sincerity, if people who didn’t cross their arms right could still get a blessing. The child shared that this wondering had come from one of the child’s parents. The rule has transformed into an identity practice which could be used to separate the insiders from the outsiders.

If only I had kept my mouth shut.

We are convinced that we think ourselves into acting. In fact, we are much more likely to act ourselves into thinking. Often, we engage in a practice and then go looking for a story to justify that practice. This is the point at which a preacher can be forgiven for trotting out the “cutting the ends off the ham” story. It has become a cliché, but that doesn’t make it less applicable.

A young girl was watching her mother bake a ham for a family gathering and noticed her mom cutting off the ends before placing it in the oven. “Mom, why do you cut the ends off before baking the ham?” she asked.

“Hmmm… I think it helps soak up the juices while it’s baking. I’m not sure, though. That’s just the way your grandma always did it, so I’ve just always cut them off. Why don’t you call grandma and ask her?”

So, the little girl phoned her grandma and asked “Grandma, mom is making a ham and cut off the ends before placing it in the oven. She said that it’s probably to help soak up the juices but wasn’t sure. She said you’d know because she learned how to cook from you.”

“That’s true. I do cut off the ends of the ham before baking. But I’m not sure why either. I learned how to cook from my mom. You should ask her.”

So, the inquisitive little girl called her great grandmother and asked “Great grandma, mom and grandma said they learned how to cook a ham from watching you. Do you cut off the ends of the ham to help it soak up the juices?”

The great grandmother chuckled. “Oh, no sweetie. I just never had a pan big enough to hold a whole ham, so I always had to cut off the ends to make it fit.”

Some scholars suggest that this is the real issue in the Great Handwashing Debate in Mark 7. Yair Furstenberg gives a detailed description of the ways in which this debate cannot be taken directly from Leviticus 11, for example, to first-century Galilee.

He argues that hand-washing before a meal was a hygienic practice that originated in Greco-Roman culture and was adopted by the Pharisees as a new addition to their practice. Jesus is not opposed to hygienic practice, as far as we can tell. Instead, he does not wish to adopt this larger popular custom, with its assimilationist dynamic.

The Biblical understanding of purity, Furstenberg suggests, understood the person as the source of potential contamination. The later, Pharisaic, system understood external substances to be the source of potential contamination. “The hand-washing custom is not a component of the priestly purity system, nor is it an expansion of it,” Furstenberg writes. “Hand washing cannot be seen as an adaptation into daily life of any biblical ruling concerning purity. On the contrary,” he continues, “the custom itself reshaped the nature and content of discourse relating to ritual purity” (pages 199-200).

This certainly helps us to make more sense out of Jesus’ use of the Isaiah 29 quote and his dual condemnations of the Pharisaic innovations. “’Rightly’ you set aside the commandment of God, in order that you can consider valid your tradition” (Mark 7:9, my translation). Jesus accuses the Pharisees of “making void the word of God by means of your tradition which you have been handing on…” (Mark 7:13, my translation and emphasis).

The jarring element of this analysis, in connection with traditional readings of this text, is that Jesus is the theological “conservative” here who critiques and rejects the “liberal” accommodations of the Pharisees. “The distancing of potential sources of contamination from the digestive system,” Furstenberg writes, “with the hands posted as guards, originates in alternative concepts of purity, closely related to the Greco-Roman custom of hand washing and absorbed through popular practice into the Jewish laws of purity.”

“The Pharisees accepted this practice and integrated it into their purity system,” he continues, “whereas Jesus confronted it with the conception of ritual purity found in Leviticus. In Jesus’ view,” he concludes, “the anthropology of the levitical purity laws places the self as a source of impurity rather than as a vulnerable potential object of contamination” (page 200).

Jesus rejects this practice in search of a story and returns his listeners to the standards of Torah. That’s what he proclaims to the crowd in Mark 7:14-15 and explains to the disciples in Mark 7:17-23. The composer of Mark’s account adds the explanatory asides to his Gentile audience to bring the story into their faith practices.

If this were simply a debate about halakhic interpretation, it wouldn’t be all that interesting or important. But Jesus moves the conversation into a larger spiritual and moral arena. The story that justifies the practice leads to what Willie James Jennings calls a “diseased imagination.” The focus on external purity practices leads to evaluations of persons based on and justifying those practices.

In The Christian Imagination, Jennings describes the historical process by which stories were developed to underwrite and justify the European Christian practice of the chattel enslavement of African bodies and the genocidal removal of Indigenous bodies on the American continents. It is clear from the historical record that the practice preceded the story. It is also clear from the historical records that the story defaced and deformed the Christian imagination to accommodate enslavement and genocide.

Jennings describes “a history in which the Christian theological imagination was woven into processes of colonial dominance. Other people and their ways of life had to adapt,” he writes, become fluid, even morph into the colonial order of things, and such a situation drew Christianity and its theologians inside habits of mind and life that internalized and normalized that order of things” (page 8).

I don’t think it’s trivial that Jesus takes on the hand-washing practice and expands it into a major theological and ethical issue. If, in fact, the practice originates with the colonizers and is a way into assimilation with the imperial power and status structure, then this is a big deal. The practice is part of the “deformation of the imagination” of the Jews of the time. Jesus takes his audience and his disciples out of that system and back to their core identity as the people of God formed by Scripture and not by human traditions.

God’s people cannot live inside a domination system, cannot accommodate to imperial powers, without experiencing a defaced and deformed imagination. This is the song that binds together the witness of the Hebrew and Christian scriptures. The Hebrews resist Egyptian imperial power and are released in the Exodus. Israel and Judah embrace forms of empire and are destroyed by empires. Jesus proclaims an alternate reign, God’s kin(g)dom and is executed by agents of the Roman system.

Our own “imperial” system that deforms the Christian imagination has now been outed for what it is – White Christian Nationalism. This is the goal of a process five hundred years old. The evidence of a deformed and defaced imagination is almost too much to catalogue. There is the conjunction of “Christian” and Confederate flags. There is the excruciating whiteness of large parts of the Church on this continent. There is the complicit racism of those of us who wish we could get it “right” without paying a price.

If it were just about cutting the ends off the ham, this little text wouldn’t matter much. But it is about who we are as followers of Jesus and how far off the track we’ve gotten in that process. This is a trail we will follow further as we see the outworking of this text in the challenge of the Syro-Phoenician woman next week.

References and Resources

“Cutting Off the Ends of the Ham.” https://www.executiveforum.com/cutting-off-the-ends-of-the-ham/.

Dewey, Joanna. The Oral Ethos of the Early Church: Speaking, Writing, and the Gospel of Mark. Cascade Books, an Imprint of Wipf and Stock Publishers. Kindle Edition.

FURSTENBERG, Y. A. I. R. (2008). Defilement Penetrating the Body: A New Understanding of Contamination in Mark 7.15. New Testament Studies, 54(02). https://doi.org/10.1017/S0028688508000106.

Jennings, Willie James. The Christian Imagination: Theology and the Origins of Race. New Haven, CT.: Yale University Press, 2010.

Kenny, Andrew. “Surprise, Colorado: The guy who sold all those ‘NATIVE’ stickers is a transplant.” https://denverite.com/2018/05/25/surprise-colorado-natives-inventor-beloved-bumper-sticker-utah/.

Malbon, E. (1989). The Jewish Leaders in the Gospel of Mark: A Literary Study of Marcan Characterization. Journal of Biblical Literature,108(2), 259-281. doi:10.2307/3267297.

Malina, Bruce. The New Testament World: Insights from Cultural Anthropology 3rd Edition. Westminster John Knox Press, 2001.

Malina, Bruce; Rohrbaugh. Richard. Social Science Commentary on the Synoptic Gospels. Kindle Edition.

McGhee, Heather. The Sum of Us. Random House Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

Oswald, Roy M., and Friedrich, Robert E. Jr. Discerning Your Congregation’s Future: A Strategic and Spiritual Approach. New York: Alban Institute, 1996.

Skinner, Matt. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-22-2/commentary-on-mark-71-8-14-15-21-23-5.

Tisby, Jemar. How to Fight Racism. Zondervan. Kindle Edition.

Webb, Elizabeth. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-22-2/commentary-on-mark-71-8-14-15-21-23-4.

Wilkerson, Isabel. Caste. Random House Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

Text Study for Mark 7:1-23 (Pt. 4); 14 Pentecost B 2021

Listen Up!

The narrative in Mark 7:1-23 mentions at least four “audiences” for Jesus’ teaching on the purity rules of the elders. In verses 1-13, the audience is the Pharisees and some of the scribes who had come from Jerusalem. In verses 14-15, the audience is the crowd (verse 16 is excluded from modern translations, but that’s another story). In verses 17-23, the audience is Jesus’ disciples, who receive additional instruction in private, based on their question.

The fourth audience is those who are listening as the gospel account is performed orally. The narrator turns to the “real” audience in verse three and explains the handwashing practice of “the Pharisees and all the Jews.” Never mind for now that not all the Jews, even among those present, behave in this way. The narrator turns once again to the “real” audience to offer a brief explanation of the rules of Corban. And the narrator turns a final time to declare that Jesus, in this conversation, has “declared all foods clean.”

Photo by Josh Sorenson on Pexels.com

We can draw several insights from these simple observations. First, there is a “real” audience assumed by the author of the Gospel according to Mark. Malbon notes that these dramatic asides function to both acknowledge the distance between the “real” audience and the internal audiences and to increase that distance. It’s clear that the “real” audience doesn’t know the significance and procedures of the traditions of the elders. It’s also clear that the gospel account wants to move the identification of the “real” audience toward the disciples.

If the proposals of performance criticism are correct, and I think they are, this gospel was performed over and over again for audiences in the decades following the Resurrection. In fact, Joanna Dewey argues that the gospel of Mark was composed orally. What we have is one transcript of that oral composition.

That presumed fourth audience is invited to identify with each of the audiences inside the narrative. It’s not that they were required to pick one of the three and stick with that one. Instead, each of the three internal audiences portrays a possible response to Jesus and his teaching in this narrative. Each of those three responses is possible in the same person – sometimes, perhaps, all at once.

Dewey writes, “the audience at a performance of Mark’s gospel, insofar as the narrative came alive for them, would identify sequentially with the various characters and events of the narrative” (page 102). In an oral setting, the audience would be taken along on the journey with all of the characters in the drama. She notes that oral/aural texts are “additive” and “aggregative” rather than exclusive and binary. There’s something to be learned from each of the three audiences here.

The author of Mark’s gospel certainly wants us to be clear that the Pharisees and some of the scribes, from Jerusalem, do not accept Jesus’ teaching in this regard. The question they offer may have been innocent enough – an attempt to diagnose Jesus’ theological position on the relatively novel “traditions of the elders” in Jerusalem. Jesus sees beneath the question to how it works out in daily life. Those traditions can be used to undercut the very intentions of God’s commandments.

The center point of the chiasm in Mark 7 is addressed to the crowd. “And calling again to the crowd, he said to them, ‘Listen to me, all [of you] and understand! There is nothing outside of a person when it enters into that one which is able to profane that person; rather, the things which profane a person are those which come out of a person” (verses 14-15, my translation). This is the theme of the address in this chapter, but it is opaque to the disciples.

The disciples then request additional instruction. We might hear Jesus’ question to them as a critique, but that’s not necessarily the only way to hear it. Dewey argues that in an oral context, the critiques of the disciples “would probably have been taken much less seriously by a first-century listening audience than by modern scholars accustomed to printed texts” (page 78). Jesus’ question here may have been more of an observation than a criticism.

Instead, oral presentations were and are far more adversarial in presentation than we might expect from a written text. This is part of the drama of the presentation. In fact, the first audience might have expected this sort of highly charged language but would not have evaluated the disciples with nearly as much negative judgment as we do with our written document biases “The negative portrayal of the disciples,” Dewey writes, “may well have seemed to audiences merely part of a normal story” (page 100).

“The hearers enter a world in which the courage to move forward in following the Markan Jesus,” Dewey writes, “in spite of and through human failure as experienced through the disciples—becomes a possibility, even a reality. The oral/aural story does not primarily convey historical information,” she argues, “it gives meaning and power to a way of life, to a cosmos become real in performance” (page 101).

In light of this analysis, we can experience the disciples in the depth in which they are presented. Lay people who hear and read Mark’s gospel get this quite easily, in my experience. They don’t experience the text as a way to evaluate and then exclude the disciples in some way. Instead, they hear the stories of these enthusiastic bumblers and feel an immediate empathy and identification. If those clods can be central to the mission of Jesus, then I can as well!

That being said, the disciples don’t define faithfulness. Jesus does. “The audience is indeed called to imitate Jesus’s life and death but perceives Jesus, not the disciples, as the authority,” Dewey argues. “In the narrative, the disciples provide a means to teach about discipleship and illustrate for the listening audience both successes and failures in following Jesus” (pages 111-112).

The disciples, here and elsewhere in Mark, teach the “real” audience what following Jesus looks like and what it doesn’t look like. Their questions are not reasons for embarrassment. The questions create the opportunities for Jesus to teach them more. That’s certainly the case here in Mark 7.

This can be encouragement for every timid lay person who is sure that one must have a theology degree before coming to a bible study class. If the disciples didn’t ask questions, our gospel accounts would be much shorter and far less informative. We are invited to be people who love the questions at least as much as, and probably more than, the answers.

But what is the question here? The question really is something like this: what allegiance do we owe to a system that protects the status quo of power, position, privilege, and property? After all, that’s how this system really works out in practice. Jesus points precisely to and critiques this reality. The only ones who can really stick with the Traditions of the Elders are those folks who don’t have to work for a living – the Jerusalem aristocracy. Everyone else is just out of luck.

The Pharisees and some of the scribes from Jerusalem come to police Jesus on his boundary-breaking. The gospel account notes that it is the Pharisees and all the “Jews” who are able to observe these traditions. There are no punctuation marks in the original Greek of the text, so we have to supply them. And the written text gives very few indications of the “tone” of a sentence.

I propose that in this passage we put scare quotes around “Jews” as a way to indicate that it’s a highly self-selected crew that has the leisure to observe the finer points of the Tradition and to regard themselves as the only “real” Jews. This is, therefore, one of the many ways that the elites maintain their privileged status and continue their profitable accommodations with the Imperial administration. The Pharisees – at least some of them – are the agents of the aristocracy in the outlying districts such as Galilee.

Jesus is resisting this oppressive, collaborationist regime and the system it supports. He equips the crowd with a set of slogans to begin to analyze and question their own situation. Some of them may become radicalized as their consciousness is changed. Others won’t notice and will go looking for whichever populist hero bakes the best bread.

Disciples are those who have been called into the resistance campaign Jesus calls the Kingdom of God. The question before the disciples is always the same. Are you in? More to the point, are you all in? Will you move from being an “ally” to being an “accomplice” in the resistance movement? Part of the drama of the Gospel of Mark is that we don’t know quite how it turns out, even at the end of the story.

I would transpose our text into this anti-racism key as one way to bring some application to the text. As a white person, I am prone to the default of white supremacy and the privileged status that I can simply take for granted as a result. It takes effort to maintain that default, but I’m so used to it and so ready to believe this is the “natural” state of affairs that I don’t even notice the work I’m doing.

Or I can begin to grow in awareness and start to resist this system of the status quo. I’m not going to do very well in that resistance — just like those disciples. I’m not going to get it right in this life, but I can’t let those failures deter me from continuing the struggle. The disciples kept looking for the big payoff for their investment in the Jesus program. Jesus kept telling them that resistance is its own reward. They didn’t get it until after the Resurrection, and even then it was with halting steps at best.

White male supremacy is our best contemporary example of rejecting the commandment of God in order to keep our traditions. We white people really do believe that we have always been superior, and we act as if that has always been the case. We don’t want to hear that white male supremacy is a fabricated story designed to undergird our systematic exploitation of other human beings made in the image of God. I suspect the Pharisees and scribes didn’t want to hear the critique Jesus offered either.

Are we making void the word of God through our traditions, our habits, our systemic structures, and unconscious assumptions? There’s a way to rile up a congregation, eh?

References and Resources

Dewey, Joanna. The Oral Ethos of the Early Church: Speaking, Writing, and the Gospel of Mark. Cascade Books, an Imprint of Wipf and Stock Publishers. Kindle Edition.

Kenny, Andrew. “Surprise, Colorado: The guy who sold all those ‘NATIVE’ stickers is a transplant.” https://denverite.com/2018/05/25/surprise-colorado-natives-inventor-beloved-bumper-sticker-utah/.

Malbon, E. (1989). The Jewish Leaders in the Gospel of Mark: A Literary Study of Marcan Characterization. Journal of Biblical Literature,108(2), 259-281. doi:10.2307/3267297.

Malina, Bruce. The New Testament World: Insights from Cultural Anthropology 3rd Edition. Westminster John Knox Press, 2001.

Malina, Bruce; Rohrbaugh. Richard. Social Science Commentary on the Synoptic Gospels. Kindle Edition.

McGhee, Heather. The Sum of Us. Random House Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

Oswald, Roy M., and Friedrich, Robert E. Jr. Discerning Your Congregation’s Future: A Strategic and Spiritual Approach. New York: Alban Institute, 1996.

Skinner, Matt. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-22-2/commentary-on-mark-71-8-14-15-21-23-5.

Tisby, Jemar. How to Fight Racism. Zondervan. Kindle Edition.

Webb, Elizabeth. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-22-2/commentary-on-mark-71-8-14-15-21-23-4.

Wilkerson, Isabel. Caste. Random House Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

Text Study for Mark 7:1-23 (Pt. 3); 14 Pentecost B 2021

What Happens in the Marketplace Stays in the Marketplace?

Mark 7:4 has a significant footnote in the NRSV that points to a textual variant. The text we read says that the Pharisees “do not eat anything from the market unless they wash it.” Another rendering reads, “and when they come from the market-place, they do not eat unless they purify themselves.” I think that the alternate reading is probably more accurate, but that’s not really the point.

The point is that the Pharisees want what happens in the marketplace to stay in the marketplace. Elizabeth Webb, in her workingpreacher.org commentary, notes, “Either way, the reference to the market is another example of Mark’s subtle way of calling our attention to what really matters. The passage immediately prior to this one,” she observes, “in which the sick are laid out ‘in the marketplaces’ (Mark 6:56) for Jesus to heal them, demonstrates the in breaking of the kingdom of God in the world.”

Photo by Danilo Ugaddan on Pexels.com

Purity rules can and often do mark some spaces as sacred and others as profane. That is a useful distinction when “sacred” means set apart for the specific purpose of worshiping God. This distinction marks off a space by its function rather than its value. It’s not that the space in a worship sanctuary behind the communion rail is “better” than other spaces. It’s just that it is set apart for the celebration of communion, the offering of prayers, the blessing of the people, and the proclaiming of the word.

Yet, such practices can quickly teach us that sacred spaces are “good” and profane spaces are “bad.” I am old enough to remember, in my liturgical tradition, the days when only the ordained pastor was allowed behind the altar rail during worship services. Lay people did not serve as lectors, did not lead worship, and did not assist in communion distribution. They were not permitted to enter the “sacred” space, and many felt naughty, guilty, and sinful if they did.

Outside of the worship time, the deacons (all men) would manage the offering. And the altar guild (all women) would manage the communion ware. These activities were treated with great care and solemnity, and the time spent in the actual “holy space” was kept to a minimum. Obviously, the old table in the Sunday School room where the counting happened, and the sacristy behind the altar where the dishes got done, didn’t count as “holy space.”

One result of this practice was that even as adults to this day, some people feel naughty if they have to go behind the altar rail for some reason. I have served in congregations where people of a certain vintage to this day are reluctant to be in the sacred spaces that were off limits to them in their youth. There is something quite charming about this sense of the sacred – something that is perhaps a loss in our less-bounded contemporary worship spaces. But I don’t wish to return to those former days.

Another function of this distinction is that the space of the church and the space of the world are radically separated. Perhaps this is part of Jesus’ larger point here. Several times in the gospel accounts, Jesus notes that his opponents carry out a variety of financial and commercial transactions – some of them unsavory – and then, with a splash of water and the application of the proper prayers enter the sacred space “undefiled.” It may be that this is a significant part of Jesus’ critique here. Jesus is not going after the purity laws themselves but rather the ways in which those traditions can be used to shield the privileged from social and moral accountability.

When I come to this text, I always think of one of my favorite novels, Dickens’ Great Expectations. This sort of hypocritical separation of realms and functions is one of the subthemes of the novel. The lawyer, Mr. Jaggers, washes his hands after every unsavory encounter and every case as if to rid himself of the impurities (and complications) of his work. Mr. Wemmick, his clerk, engages in complicated personal rituals every day to ensure that work stays at work and home stays at home.

Dickens observes that such ritual distinctions do not work in the long run. No matter how much we scrub, clean hands do not entail a clear conscience. What makes us unclean is not what we eat but rather what we do, and why. Home follows us to work. And work follows us home. No matter how I try to keep them apart, both home and work have a common feature. That common feature is me. No matter where I go, I am still there. No matter what boundaries I may try to enforce, my heart does not behave and obey the rules.

“The line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between classes, nor between political parties either,” Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn writes in The Gulag Archipelago, “but right through every human heart — and through all human hearts. This line shifts. Inside us, it oscillates with the years. And even within hearts overwhelmed by evil,” he continues, “one small bridgehead of good is retained.”

Matt Skinner notes that this is a good news/bad news kind of text. The good news is that what goes into us does not make us unfit for God’s company. Yay! The bad news is that evil “comes from within all those people who bug you. But,” he reminds us, “also from within you. Me, too.”

Skinner offers four comments on this reminder that comes from Jesus. I say “reminder” because, as Skinner notes, Jesus is not making this up out of whole cloth. This concern to connect heart to hands is a consistent them in the Hebrew scriptures in general and in the Prophets in particular. First, Skinner notes, the human heart can also produce good intentions. Second, this is about human beings, not just a Jewish interest group. Third, “the devil made me do it” argument doesn’t stand up well against this text. Fourth, this is about my brokenness, not my neighbors.

What happens in the marketplace does not stay in the marketplace. It comes with us wherever we go, because our actions (especially those dealing with our stuff) arise from our hearts. The list of vices in this text is certainly not exhaustive. But it does have a definite “marketplace” slant to it.

Fornication and adultery can be understood as stealing bodies and/or relationships. Murder can be imagined as stealing another’s life. Theft, avarice, and licentiousness are really property crimes proper. Deceit is theft of the truth. Envy, slander, pride, and folly may steal another’s good name. Wickedness is theft of goodness from God.

Washing our hands of such actions may create some social cover. But it won’t rinse the stain off our hearts. The preacher can move quite easily this week to the Second Reading from James 1 to support this line of thinking. “Be doers of the word,” the Letter of James urges, “and not merely hearers who deceive themselves.” What happens in the marketplace cannot be kept out of the sanctuary. Preachers must deal with possessions — yes, with money — from the pulpit.

Here is the standard of purity for Jesus followers. “Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this,” we read in James 1:27 (NRSV), “to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world.” I would suggest that the “and” here is explanatory rather than additive. To do otherwise than to care for orphans and widows in their distress is in fact to be stained by the world. It is to render our “religion” worthless (see James 1:26).

In Mark’s account, the Pharisees and some of the scribes are chiefly concerned with maintaining the external integrity of Israel, Bruce Malina suggests, with an emphasis on clear outer boundaries for the community of God’s people. Jesus focuses on the internal dynamics of both the person and the community, Malina continues, and therefore threatens (in their view) Israel’s integrity as a people (New Testament World, page 129).

The purity rules in the Hebrew scriptures are designed to facilitate and increase access to God, Malina argues, not to restrict that access. The emphasis of the Pharisees and some of the scribes in this encounter, he continues, is on how to approach God (or at least to be in a fit condition to approach God).

On the other hand, Jesus emphasizes how God approaches us – through our hearts. Malina argues that purity rules, at least in the “traditions of the elders,” had become the tail wagging the dog of right relationships. These rules had become a tool of the religious/political/economic elite to control the people (pages 144-145).

In what ways do we “insiders” use “traditions of the elders” to control access to our Christian congregations? We may say that “all are welcome here” but are “all” really welcome here? In most congregations, the honest answer is “no.” We exclude people through a variety of conscious and unconscious norms designed for the comfort of the insiders and the repulsion of those who might want to get in.

In their book, Discerning Your Congregation’s Future, Oswald and Friedrich define congregational norms. They are “those unwritten psychological rules that govern the way any human community behaves. They are generally unconscious,” they continue, “especially for people who have been part of the community for a long time. People are not trying to keep ‘secrets’ from one another,” they suggest, “Norms simply are by definition unconscious and therefore unspoken” (page 168).

Oswald and Friedrich offer some practical ways to identify and discuss those norms as well. One way to uncover some of them is to interview newcomers to the congregation (assuming you have any). On a larger scale, a congregation can engage in “An Evening of Norm Identification.” In the book the authors provide a detailed outline of how to carry out such an event. They note that the farther our actual living as a congregation departs from our beliefs and values, the more unhealthy the congregation becomes.

This takes us back to Jesus and his discussion partners. He points to the dissociation that has occurred between the values of the Reign of God and the power structures of first-century Israel. What makes a person, and a community, unhealthy (the real meaning of “impure”) is the increasing separation between those values and the power structures. What makes a person, and a community, healthy (the real meaning of “pure”) is coherence between the values and power structures of that community.

What happens in the marketplace can’t stay in the marketplace. What infects the human heart can’t be confined by external rules.

References and Resources

Kenny, Andrew. “Surprise, Colorado: The guy who sold all those ‘NATIVE’ stickers is a transplant.” https://denverite.com/2018/05/25/surprise-colorado-natives-inventor-beloved-bumper-sticker-utah/.

Malina, Bruce. The New Testament World: Insights from Cultural Anthropology 3rd Edition. Westminster John Knox Press, 2001.

Malina, Bruce; Rohrbaugh. Richard. Social Science Commentary on the Synoptic Gospels. Kindle Edition.

McGhee, Heather. The Sum of Us. Random House Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

Oswald, Roy M., and Friedrich, Robert E. Jr. Discerning Your Congregation’s Future: A Strategic and Spiritual Approach. New York: Alban Institute, 1996.

Skinner, Matt. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-22-2/commentary-on-mark-71-8-14-15-21-23-5.

Tisby, Jemar. How to Fight Racism. Zondervan. Kindle Edition.

Webb, Elizabeth. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-22-2/commentary-on-mark-71-8-14-15-21-23-4. Wilkerson, Isabel. Caste. Random House Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

Text Study for Mark 7:1-23 (Pt. 2); 14 Pentecost B 2021

Common Humanity

Purity rules are always about people in the end. The story we tell may be about land or food or clothing. But those material things always represent the differences we construct between people: the insiders and the outsiders, the honorable and the dishonorable, the natives and the foreigners, the good and the bad. We humans love hierarchies, and we will fixate on almost any feature of existence in order to establish a pecking order with us at the top and someone else at the bottom.

I lived in Denver, Colorado, for a few years in the early 1980’s. That was the time of the “Native” bumper stickers. Colorado was a popular place for pilgrims seeking their version of John Denver’s “Rocky Mountain High.” They (we, for a while) came from all over the country and all over the world to enjoy the skiing and the columbine, the low humidity and high meadows. It was difficult to find someone who was actually born in Colorado and still lived there.

Photo by eberhard grossgasteiger on Pexels.com

The few folks who made up the aristocracy of birth began a movement expressed on green bumper stickers decorated with a background of mountain peaks and displaying the title “NATIVE.” This designation placed them above the rest of us mere mortals who had the misfortune to be born somewhere else and to feel the need emigrate to God’s country.

There were several edges to this label. “Natives” were, according to some, inherently better than the interlopers and better-suited to their home state. The non-natives were invaders who brought with them all sorts of foreign ideas, customs, and priorities. They (we) were dilettantes who came for the skiing and left when the snow turned to mud. The natives were the only ones really deserving of the best real estate and were deeply resentful of all the outside money that drove up the prices and reduced the inventory.

Non-natives were, somehow, “impure.” Some folks struck back in kind with a variety of parody bumper stickers. There was “Semi-native,” “Naïve,” and “Alien.” My favorite was the one that rejected the whole enterprise. It read “WHO CARES?” Only later did most of us find out that the original idea for the “NATIVE” campaign originated with a transplant named Eric Glade. After a few years the campaign petered out, but the message stuck with me.

It takes very little for us humans to whip up a caste system, out of whole cloth if we need to do so. “A caste system is an artificial construction, a fixed and embedded ranking of human value that sets the presumed supremacy of one group against the presumed inferiority of other groups on the basis of ancestry and often immutable traits,” writes Isabel Wilkerson, “traits that would be neutral in the abstract but are ascribed life-and-death meaning in a hierarchy favoring the dominant caste whose forebears designed it. A caste system,” she continues, “uses rigid, often arbitrary boundaries to keep the ranked groupings apart, distinct from one another and in their assigned places” (page 17).

Wilkerson focuses on the caste systems in India, race-based America, and Nazi Germany to examine the common features of each system. “The hierarchy of caste is not about feelings or morality,” Wilkerson observes. “It is about power—which groups have it and which do not. It is about resources—which caste is seen as worthy of them and which are not, who gets to acquire and control them and who does not. It is,” she concludes, “about respect, authority, and assumptions of competence—who is accorded these and who is not” (page 17).

Because of the role of power in caste systems, not every purity system is a caste system. The Hebrew purity system came into being when the people of Israel were in desperate need of an identity they could preserve in the face of the Babylonian imperial juggernaut. The rules about Sabbath, food, and circumcision, were boundaries that helped to identify the Jews as a people and to keep them from being assimilated into the mass of Babylonians.

The purity system did not produce any advantages in that setting. If anything, it created additional problems for the subject people, who might have had an easier time if they had just melted into the Babylonian pot. In that setting, the Jewish purity system was not a way to gain power over others. It was a way to survive as a people. Clinging to that system could cost one their life, as Richard Swanson notes in describing the story of Eleazar as recorded in IV Maccabees.

“All enduring human societies offer their members ways of making sense out of living by providing systems of meaning,” Malina and Rohrbaugh write. “Such systems consist essentially of largely imaginary lines drawn around self, others, nature, time, and space. When something is out of place as determined by the prevailing system of meaning,” they continue, “that something is considered wrong, deviant, senseless. Dirt is matter out of place” (page 222).

It is one thing to have a system that maps out the relationships in life in such a way as to provide a framework of meaning and purpose. But human beings, over time, find it nearly impossible, I think, to resist the temptation to use that system to establish a caste system which affords advantages to the in-group that sponsors the system.

It was one thing to point out that there were still a few “Native” Coloradans hanging around in the sea of newcomers. That was just a fact. And those “natives” could indeed offer some insights into life along and among the great Rocky Mountains. If the “Native” label were regarded as a gift, an asset, something to be offered up for the good of all, it might have been a salutary thing. But it was claimed as a resentful privilege and a mark of preferred purity.

It wasn’t long before a few people noted the astonishing and immoral presumption in the label as well. The real “natives” of the land weren’t white people who happened to have been born within the boundaries of Colorado. The real natives were the people whose people had been on that land long before Colorado was even a consideration. The real natives were the people whose people had been on that land when the ancestors of the pretenders were still expelling the Romans from northern Europe.

Every human hierarchy is constructed on a false foundation. Jesus understands this, names it, and challenges the presumptions of the purity system in Israel at the time. It’s not the covenant itself that he challenges. It is the way the purity system is now used to underwrite systems and structures of power, to serve self-interest rather than God, and to sustain the divisions constructed to uphold the system in the first place.

Purity rules are always about people in the end. No, that’s not quite right. Purity rules are always about power in the end. In Jesus’ earthly ministry, the purity system was based on rules that had meant something quite different in Bronze Age Israel and in Iron Age Judea. Now that system was being used to police the poor, to control women, and to prop up the priestly aristocracy in Jerusalem. Regardless of their intentions, the Pharisees participated in that caste system, and Jesus challenged that participation.

In our own culture, of course, the purity system is based on race. “In very stark and quantifiable terms,” writes Heather McGhee, “the exploitation, enslavement, and murder of African and Indigenous American people turned blood into wealth for the white power structure. Those who profited,” she continues, “made no room for the oppressed to share in the rewards from their lands or labor; what others had, they took. The racial zero sum,” she argues, “was crafted in the cradle of the New World” (page 9).

Our own purity system of race was the story we constructed that made Indigenous genocide and chattel slavery not only possible but positive goods. It is the story that made possible lynchings and Jim Crow laws. It is the story that underwrote redlining and the segregation of schools, medical care, job opportunities, and wealth accumulation that are part of our life today. It is the story that sought to erase real “Natives” from the land and to enslave Africans kidnapped from their homes.

Our own purity system of race is the story that continues to put white males at the top of the hierarchy and to push black people back down to the “mudsills” of society. In the process of pursuing this system, we have created a culture that makes poor white people believe that there’s nothing better than being better than black people, and that any price is worth paying to keep that fact true.

“Since this country’s founding,” McGhee writes, “we have not allowed our diversity to be our superpower, and the result is that the United States is not more than the sum of its disparate parts. But it could be,” she argues, “And if it were, all of us would prosper” (page 289). When purity systems do nothing but underwrite the existing hierarchies of power, almost everyone suffers – including the parents of that hypothetical person who has dedicated their old age pension to the support of the Jerusalem temple.

“You abandon the commandment of God,” Jesus argues, “and hold to human tradition.” That commandment, as we hear later, is to love God with heart, soul, mind, and strength, and to love our neighbors as ourselves. Traditions that lead us away from those commandments, no matter how well-intentioned in the beginning, defile all who participate in them. So, the human traditions we call the system of white supremacy make us all dirty – and we white folks most of all.

References and Resources

Kenny, Andrew. “Surprise, Colorado: The guy who sold all those ‘NATIVE’ stickers is a transplant.” https://denverite.com/2018/05/25/surprise-colorado-natives-inventor-beloved-bumper-sticker-utah/.

Bruce Malina; Richard L. Rohrbaugh. Social Science Commentary on the Synoptic Gospels. Kindle Edition.

McGhee, Heather. The Sum of Us. Random House Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

Tisby, Jemar. How to Fight Racism. Zondervan. Kindle Edition.

Wilkerson, Isabel. Caste. Random House Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

Text Study for Mark 7:1-23 (Pt. 1); 14 Pentecost B 2021

Keep the Light Switch On

We bid a fond farewell to our five-week sojourn in John’s Bread of Life Discourse and return to Mark’s gospel. We take up where we left off five weeks ago, sort of. We heard Mark’s account of the Feeding of the Five Thousand (Mark 6:30-44), his Walking on Water (Mark 6:45-52, which was omitted by the lectionary), and his Healing the Sick in Gennesaret (Mark 6:53-56). It might be necessary for preachers to briefly re-orient our hearers – at least the ones who weren’t on vacation during the Bread of Life sermons.

The lectionary folks have chopped up the first half of Mark 7, omitting verses 9-13 and 16-20. Put them back in. Yes, these verses have some challenging and concerning statements and ideas. But that’s why we get the big money, right? Seriously, the omitted verses are important to understanding the text as a whole. Even if we omit them in the public reading for this Sunday, an honest interpreter needs to take them into account.

Photo by Steve Johnson on Pexels.com

The gospel of Mark is overflowing with the marks of oral communication and presentation, including the use of chiasms. I think the section of Mark’s gospel that includes chapter seven is an example of such usage. I’m not pointing this out to show off, and I don’t think you will probably mention this in a sermon or homily. The reason to go after this technical issue is twofold – to see the parallels built into Mark’s description of the events, and to identify the “center” of the section, which has the theme for our reflection.

I begin by reading the text with this structure.

A= Mark 7:1-5, eating with defiled hands

B=Mark 7:6-13, having backward priorities

C=Mark 7:14-15, the central theme

B’=Mark 7:16-19, having God’s priorities

A’=Mark 7:20-23, what really defiles a person

I think the structure should probably be expanded to include Mark 6:53-56 and Mark 7:24-30. These healing stories parallel one another and illustrate the central point in Mark 7. In the earlier healing story, Jesus responds to all (presumably Jewish) comers in the land of Gennesaret. In the later healing story, Jesus initially rebuffs the request of the Syro-Phoenician woman but acquiesces to her superior humility and theology.

The healing of the deaf man in the Decapolis is an inclusio, I think, that caps off the arc of the story which began in chapter 2. The punch line in Mark 7:37 is such an obvious applause line if one is thinking about oral performance of the gospel story. Chapter 8 begins with an obvious reset, “In those days again…”

We will address the encounter with the Syro-Phoenician woman – one of my favorite gospel accounts – next week. We then jump, (unfortunately for a sense of continuity) straight to Peter’s confession at Caesarea Philippi in Mark 8:27-38. I understand that the lectionary folks see some duplication of themes in the early parts of chapter 8. But we as preachers need to have those passages in mind and perhaps can refer to some of them as illustrations of themes that Mark wishes to highlight.

Before I return to the chiasm, I want to highlight what appears to me as another rhetorical strategy in Mark’s gospel. It seems that every time Jesus has a big “moment” (like the Feeding of the Five Thousand), Jesus’ opponents push back with equal and opposite resistance.

Jesus hits a home run with his feeding miracle, and how do the opponents respond? They launch into a critique of the handwashing etiquette of the disciples. In fact, one of the ideas that ties this section together is “food.” Just as Jesus is Lord of the Sabbath earlier in the gospel account, so here Jesus is clearly the Lord of the Bread as well. His opponents immediately call his authority into question by pointing to the “bad manners” of his followers.

This dynamic reminds me of the antiracism/racism tug of war described by Ibram X. Kendi and others. Every advance in antiracist policy and practice is met by an advance in racist policy and practice.

The gains of Reconstruction were destroyed by the terrors of Jim Crow. The flourishing of the Greenwood neighborhood of Tulsa was met with the inhuman destruction of the white riots of 1921. The advances of Civil Rights legislation were derailed by stupid Supreme Court decisions. The promise of integration was met with the privatization of white spaces. The election of a black man as president of the United States provoked Donald Trump’s reign of terror.

I appreciate Jemar Tisby’s encouragement in how we white people can respond to the rigors of this tug of war. In How to Fight Racism, he encourages us to “keep the light switch on.”

Tisby puts it this way. “There’s a big difference between a light switch and a smoke alarm. A light switch can be turned on and off. A smoke alarm is always on. Racial justice for white people is often like a light switch. You can turn it on or off whenever you feel like it. But for people of color, racial justice is more like a smoke alarm. It always has to be on just to keep safe and avoid danger” (page 185).

Tisby makes two points here. On the one hand, for people of color there is no “light switch.” The reality of racism performed as white supremacy is always “on” for people of color. On the other hand, it’s pretty easy for most of us white folks to “turn the switch off” when things get a little hard, or we lose interest, or we get distracted.

He urges us to develop structures and routines – what I would call practices – to make sure that this isn’t just a matter of willpower. Those practices include budgeting time for racial justice activism, giving sacrificially to support racial justice work, watching our language so we don’t give positive press to racists, using our own platforms to work for racial justice, supporting minority-owned or led businesses, supporting political candidates working for racial justice, being intentional about where we send our kids to school, where we shop, where we work, and where we play.

I mention these practices because they can take us back to Mark’s account. Could it be that Mark’s gospel is structured to remind those early Christians to “keep the light switch on”? The path of least resistance for many, if not all, of those Markan Christians was probably to give in to the cultural pressure to return to paganism. The more “success” the Christian movement experienced, at least in the first three centuries, the more pushback there was from the larger culture.

Unlike people of color, the early Christians could have turned the light switch off. But if they chose not to and to resist the challenges to their faith and life, they needed practices to keep them faithful. It’s no accident that this section of Mark’s gospel is about the proper practices that identify one as a member of a community of faith.

This is not an excuse to “bash the Jews” for being legalists as opposed to being people of faith. That’s not what this text is about. Jews had died for those cultural and religious identity markers as a matter of faith any number of times over the previous five hundred years.

“Purity in matters of food was as important as anything in postexilic Israelite practice,” Malina and Rohrbaugh write, “though what is under discussion here is the Pharisaic expression of Israelite custom rather than the Law of Moses. Here Jesus rejects the former in favor of the latter” (page 221). While the customary actions were practiced primarily by city elites, they note, the demands were made upon everyone who wished to be called a faithful Jew.

There is as well, therefore, a class dimension to this clash of customs. “Keeping purity laws was a near impossibility for peasant farmers,” Malina and Rohrbaugh continue, “who may not have the required water for ritual baths, or for fishermen, who came in constant contact with dead fish, dead animals, and the like. It was also very difficult,” they note, “for people who traveled about such as Jesus and his disciples” (page 221).

The primary practices Jesus advocates in this text do not focus on external purity. Instead, the first practice is to honor the full intent of God’s commandments rather than blurring that intent through the vagaries of case law. Exceptions and equivocations can multiply to the point that the heart of the commandment no longer matters. When self-interest drives that process, there is no limit to the possible abuses that can ensue.

The second practice is to focus on relational holiness rather than physical purity. Jesus focuses on the filial relationship to parents. He then expands that to an examination of the human heart, the source of “evil intentions.” Many of these evil intentions result in the breaking of community, the exclusion of the stranger, and the exploitation of the vulnerable. Defilement has more to do with maintaining (or transgressing) community integrity than it does with maintaining bodily purity.

The places this text can take us are manifold. I think of all the church-dividing issues that resolve down in one way or another to differing commitments to “purity” – for example, the war within parts of the American church over whether LGBTQIA+ people should have the same places in the pews and at the table as non-LGBTQIA+ people. Of course, this “purity” battle is also being waged in bathrooms and on athletic fields across the country at the expense of transgender children and adults.

We would be well-served as Christians to place such conversations within the framework of the debate here in Mark 7. If we did that, we might get closer to getting those issues right. I am grateful that those for whom such issues are not a “light switch” continue to press the Church to be faithful to Jesus rather than imprisoned by culture.

Of course, even Jesus didn’t get it all right without such a push. But that’s a conversation for next week. Next time, we’ll look at the text itself in greater detail.

References and Resources

Bruce Malina; Richard L. Rohrbaugh. Social Science Commentary on the Synoptic Gospels. Kindle Edition.

Tisby, Jemar. How to Fight Racism. Zondervan. Kindle Edition.